


Broken

by Cleo_Calliope



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleo_Calliope/pseuds/Cleo_Calliope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith watches those around her, and waits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

Nothing.

I wait, but nothing happens. It’s like this thing in my chest is broken. Sure, it beats fast when I run and slow when I sleep, and sometimes it even aches so bad I think I’m gonna die. But it doesn’t do the other thing it’s supposed to do.

What’s that saying? Just wait, it’ll happen? Yeah, right. If I hear that one more time I’m gonna be sick. It seems like I’ve been waiting forever, but it’s never happened.

Of course, they don’t usually bother to tell _me_ it’ll happen. Everyone knows I’m a slut, I’ll sleep with anyone. All the snide little remarks made just loud enough so they know I’ll hear.

What the hell do _they_ know about it anyway?

Do they think I fuckin’ wanna be like this? 

I hate it.

I hate the girls I sleep with and I hate the guys even more. They all use me as much, if not more, than I use them. I’m nothing more than a good piece of tail and I know it. But I just want to be touched. I crave human contact. And that’s the only way I can get it. If that makes me a slut than what the hell.

The thing is though, everyone seems to think I’m cold. And sometimes I even think they’re right. Can I even feel love? I know I can care. I have cared, I do care… But I’ve never loved. Not like that.

They talk about the agonies of love, the crazy things it makes you do. But that's just one more conversation I can’t join in on. Just one more way I’m not like them. What do I know about love? Nothing but what I’ve seen. Granted, I’ve seen a lot, more than they guess. But in the end imagination isn’t the same thing.

I watch them and I see it. Every fucking day. I watch Angel and Cordelia talking. Doesn’t matter what they're talking about. There’s just something in the way their eyes meet. A closeness, a spark. They’ve never touched one another, at least, not in that way. They can't. Cures can really suck. But somehow, they’re lovers just the same. The words have never been said. They don’t need to be. It’s just there. I had no idea it could be like that. So intense and so utterly pure. It only serves to remind me how dirty I am.

Then there’s good ole Wes and that new guy, Gunn. They’re always laughing together. Secret handshakes and inside jokes. Just good buddies, slapping each other on the back and going out for drinks. But it’s there too if you look. The same closeness, the softening when their eyes meet, the way they look out for each other. They’re friends, first and foremost, just like Angel and Cordelia. But, just like with them, that’s not all there is to it. Have they gone farther? I don’t have a clue. It doesn’t matter though whether they’re getting in on when no one is looking. It doesn’t and wouldn’t change the essential nature of… well, _them_. Of the way they are.

I’ve never had a friendship that close before. I’m always on the outside looking in. I was that way in Sunnydale and I’m that way in LA. Angel tries to pull me in despite Wes’ best efforts to keep me out. Whatever.

I just sit off to the side. I make snide comments and do my job. I believe in what I’m doing. Funny, that it’s taken me this long to get things straight. I’m busy so most of the time I can ignore it. There’s cases to work on, souls to save. Except that there's still this empty space inside me

I try to find obsessions to fill it, but nothing ever does. Dancing, drinking, killing… it’s all the same in the end. A way to fill up a hole inside that can never be filled. 

It wouldn’t be so damn bad if I didn’t have to see it _every Goddamn fucking day_. I’m forced to watch the intricate dances of those around me. Sometimes it seems like they’re so close that their very souls are somehow entwined. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never seen any of them actually touch each other like that. It still feels like I’m watching their first kiss, sweet and perfect. Perfect, because it will go on forever. The newness of it will never fade. They always seem to find something new in each other, something fascinating and wonderful.

I remember my first kiss. He stuck his tongue down my throat and I nearly gagged. And all I could do was wonder what all the fuss was about. Why is this supposed to be so fucking great? I’m still waiting for an answer.

Sex is just sex. It’s meaningless. I want to know what gives it meaning. What it is about the simple touch of one person’s lips to another than can be so amazing. The kind of kiss that leaves you dreamy. I just don’t get it. But damn, I want to. I _ache_ to.

Sometimes, I run into people I used to know. They don’t ever ask me if I have a boyfriend, or even a girlfriend. Hell, I’m really not that picky. But they know me. Faith is all about one night stands and casual sex. I hate them for not asking, I hate myself for being the kind of person who no one would ever think to ask.

What no one gets is that I don’t _want_ to be this way, it’s just that this is all I’ve ever known.

There's times when I hate them. I hate the way Wes and Gunn always know that the other is at their back, without question. The safety that comes with someone that close. I hate the way Angel and Cordelia seem to make love with just a glance. The way they smile at each other. They’ll just look at into one another’s eyes for less than a minute and seem to come away from that exchange more satisfied then a hundred guys in my bed could ever satisfy me.

Because I’m empty. I’m cold. 

I want to feel. I really do. I want to feel love and friendship. I wanna go crazy with it. I want to be sappy and silly… and safe. What does it feel like to be safe in someone’s arms? To _know_ that you mean the world to them? I never feel safe. I never feel needed for more than what I can do for them, but for who I am.

They say that hope springs eternal, but I’ve just gotten so damn tired of it. Of looking closely at all the people I meet. Wondering, could this be the one? Could those arms hold me, keep me safe? Could those lips leave me dreamy? Could those eyes look into my soul and actually like what they see?

I’m just so fucking _TIRED_ of wondering. Hope is all fine and dandy, but it can’t live forever on nothing and neither can I.

All I can do is wait, and maybe one day… But the truth is I don’t believe it. Whatever is wrong with me isn’t going to be solved any time soon. 

Sure, I’m pretty. Hell, I’m damn hot and I know it. They all look when I walk down the street. What fucking good does it do me? 

Because, you see, this thing in my chest just doesn’t work right. It’s broken.

And I guess, in way… so am I.


End file.
